


Through To Sunrise

by Remeinhu



Series: These Fragile Bodies [2]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Biting, Deadpan Snarker Kitty (brief appearance), Dirty Clerihews, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Mild S&M, Office Supplies, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parrleyn - Freeform, Pervertibles, Porn with Feelings, Porn with...half a plot?, Repetitive Stress Injuries, Scratching, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut, Spanking, parrlyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remeinhu/pseuds/Remeinhu
Summary: Sex, trial, and fucking error.Or, two times Anne didn’t come and one time she did.In which I attempt a smut fic that recognizes that sexual skill is, well, a learned skill, and that acknowledges some of the ways bodies don’t always cooperate—and in which much fun is nevertheless had by all.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Series: These Fragile Bodies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800094
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	1. Keep the Faith, Don’t Toe The Line

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter picks up right after the events of Chapter 8 of "This Vibrant Skin."
> 
> Work title and chapter titles from the chorus of the Girlyman song "Through To Sunrise," from their 2007 album "Joyful Sign."  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=elBerS4dpWo
> 
> It really has no thematic relevance; I just like the words.

After Anne had bid Cathy goodnight, she returned to her room, closed the door behind her, and wondered what the hell she was going to do.

_It’s bad enough to discover we’re both clandestine skin-pickers. Nothing to feed obsession like a shared secret. Now I can’t really deny how attracted to her I am._

All that would have been quite intense enough for one evening.

_And then, damn her, she had to go and volunteer to patch up my shoulder. Which of necessity involved her putting her hands all over my skin._

_Her gorgeous, clever hands._

_Well, and a good thing they’re clever; that was a nasty infection in the spot on my shoulder, and I couldn’t reach it that well. It’s good she was able to put antiseptic on it._

_Which of necessity involved making it hurt like hell._ She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of how the rubbing alcohol had stung her broken, inflamed skin. _And what’s more is that I_ want _her to hurt me like that again._

_Especially if I get to feel those fingers soothing me afterwards._

She slumped back against the door with a dull _thunk_.

_Goddamn it._

She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head. Unfortunately, all she could think about were Cathy’s dark, liquid eyes and her decadently curly hair. _What I wouldn’t give to tangle my fingers in those curls while she kisses me with that fierce mouth of hers…and there are plenty of other things I’d like her to do with that mouth, too._

She shook her head. _Cool it, Boleyn. This is wildly inappropriate._ She bit her lip to try and snap out of the fantasy, but it had the opposite effect, the sharp pain shooting through her and bringing all her nerve endings to ready attention.

_I don’t even want to think about what Cathy would say if she could see me now._ As if on cue, she imagined Cathy’s voice, warm and solemn and commanding and just the slightest bit sly: _if you were aroused by the sting of the alcohol, wouldn’t it stand to reason that biting your lip would make you respond similarly?_ In her mind, Cathy raised an eyebrow. _Really now, Anne, you’re smarter than that._

“You’re not helping in the _slightest,_ ” Anne growled to the Cathy she’d conjured in her head. She ran her tongue back and forth along her top teeth, still halfheartedly trying to distract herself, but when the point of her canine caught a small sore spot, she felt another sharp jolt shoot through her.

_I_ did _tell you,_ Cathy scolded in her head.

“You’re not real and you wouldn’t be egging me on if you were actually here in the room right now,” Anne retorted through gritted teeth.

_I highly doubt you need much of my help,_ Imaginary Cathy replied. _Look at you. You’re still slumped against the door of your room. You keep doing little things you can reasonably deduce are arousing to you. Not to mention more obvious things. You’ve been pinching your own nipple through your shift for the last few minutes._

“I have not!” Anne protested, just as she clenched her left hand involuntarily and realized that the voice in her head had been quite correct. “Oh…”

“ _Oh,” indeed. You’re quite wet, too._

“I am _not_.”

_You_ are, _and what’s more, you have been since you realized I was going to touch your shoulders. There’s no need for you to take my word for it, though. Wanting to verify for yourself what people tell you is an admirable trait. By all means, reach down and confirm it._

“Oh, very clever. Yes, for _sure_ you want me to reach down and touch myself just to _confirm_ what you said. You have _no_ ulterior motive.” Anne rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that her right hand was now grasping at the flesh around her hipbone.

_I don’t believe I ever claimed that I lacked an ulterior motive,_ Imaginary Cathy said crisply. _But if you prefer, I will be more explicit._ She licked her lips, looking for all the world like a cat who’d gotten into something she wasn’t allowed and was inordinately pleased with herself. _Heed me, Anne._ _Touch yourself. Now._

Anne was startled to find herself obeying with alacrity. She felt not insignificantly chagrined at having just lost an argument with herself, but once she’d hiked up her shift and confirmed just how right the voice in her head had been, she really didn’t have mental room for much of anything else. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart and braced her back against the door as she clasped her cunt in her right hand, running her fingers back and forth through her slick labiae and spreading the wetness across the hood of her clitoris.

_Oh God. What am I doing? Never mind, I’ll worry about that later._ She imagined Cathy just standing there, watching her impassively, and she actually gasped out loud. Embarrassed, she bit her lip again and felt the pain go straight to her clit, which she rubbed furiously.

She felt pressure building up inside her, and she closed her eyes and bit her lip harder…except just then her legs gave out and she tumbled over, rolling her ankle in the process.

“ _Fuck! Ow!”_ she yelped, grabbing the offending joint, which was already aching, and not in a fun way, either.

_I was so. close._ She scowled, any arousal deadened by the fall and the throbbing in her ankle.

_This feels like a metaphor for_ something, _and I am distinctly unamused by it._

No longer hot, but still very distinctly bothered, she hobbled over to her bed and flopped down in exasperation, cranky and suddenly deeply exhausted.

When she closed her eyes, however, there was Cathy again in her mind, smirking and raising one eyebrow and peering down through her lashes in that maddening way of hers. There was the memory of Cathy treating the sore on her shoulder, which chose that moment to resume its stinging—stinging that felt so bloody _good_.

She felt heat rising between her legs again—heat, alas, that she had no energy left to do anything whatsoever about.

_God_ motherfucking _damnit._

She did not have a particularly restful night.


	2. Leave the Light Still On Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anne and Cathy learn that reading--while fundamental!--nevertheless only goes so far when you're trying to figure out what to do in bed.
> 
> Smut, mild hilarity and major fluff ensue.

The first time Anne and Cathy had sex was far from a disaster. In fact, both of them later remembered it very fondly indeed. Goodness knows they’d wanted each other for what felt like ages, and so at that point, to simply open up to one another and give into that _want_ was beyond marvelous.

It was hardly, however, the stuff of deathless erotica.

If they were being perfectly honest, it was actually pretty awkward. After all, neither of them really knew what the hell they were doing. The sixteenth century had offered a distinct dearth of instruction in the best techniques for fingering or cunnilingus. True, they did now have access to the internet and, through it, all the queer sex education they could ever want. Reading, however—while fundamental—can only get one so far.

Anne was aware of her inexperience, and she had felt rather anxious at first. _I’m over five hundred years old—I should know what I’m doing, but instead I feel like a teenager whose limbs all have their own ideas of which directions to move in and who’s just seen her first proper pair of tits. For fuck’s sake._

_Heh. Literally._

And, in fact, they did fumble at first; at one point Cathy nearly dissolved into helpless laughter when Anne started muttering a florid and creative stream of profanity after she tried and failed to unhook Cathy’s bra one-handed. (She thought the maneuver would seem impressive; she realized later that it was her swearing that turned Cathy on immensely and she’d started giggling to cover it up).

Soon enough, though, they were shedding the rest of their clothes with alacrity and Anne was overwhelmed by the reality and the vulnerability of their mutual nakedness. They paused for a long moment to take each other in, and for a while their pace slowed as they explored each other’s bodies in tender, awkward detail. Anne, normally so impatient and impulsive, was startled to find she wanted to take the time to memorize every inch of Cathy—the smooth inside of her bottom lip gliding under Anne’s tongue, the elegant sweep of her collarbone, the smell of her hair, the taste of her skin, the feeling of her soft, full breast growing firmer in Anne’s hand. She thought Cathy must be experiencing something similar, and when she heard her whisper, almost reverently, “may I?” and then, at Anne’s nod, carding her fingers through the thick, dark curls on her mons, she thought she could have wept with happiness.

After several moments, however, their wonder was overtaken once more by urgency, and Anne spread her legs eagerly as Cathy’s hand moved downward. She closed her eyes and gasped as it slid home and her pelvic floor gave an involuntary spasm. She was all anticipation, her focus pouring into her clit as she felt Cathy’s fingers searching it out, drawing closer, then finding…

“Ow!” She flinched. Her fingers had found the _wrong_ spot, apparently.

“Shit, Anne, are you all right?” Cathy seemed horrified.

Anne considered for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. You must have just gotten under the hood; I guess that’s a little too intense for me right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Cathy cringed, clearly embarrassed. “We can stop—”

“No!” Anne said, a bit too loudly and quickly. “I mean, if _you’re_ all right to keep going, I was really getting into it!”

Cathy sighed. “I’m just a little chagrined. It just feels like I should know what I’m doing, given that I’m over five hundred years old—what?!” she exclaimed at Anne, who’d started laughing hysterically.

“Damn!” she wheezed. “If…if only you’d heard...” Anne paused and tried to catch her breath. “If you could have heard my inner monologue twenty minutes ago, I was telling myself the same fucking thing. Very nearly verbatim.” She wiped her eyes and reached out for Cathy, whom, she noticed, seemed to perk up again when she’d started swearing. “Get back here. If you want to, anyway.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Cathy crawled up beside Anne and spooned her. “Maybe you could show me where it feels good?” She took Anne’s hand and placed her own inside it.

“Mmm, what a good idea,” Anne purred. She guided Cathy’s hand back to her vulva, grinding against her palm for a few moments to bring herself back toward her earlier level of arousal. Then she took hold of Cathy’s index finger and felt around the top of her clit until she found a spot that made her clench and inhale sharply.

“There?” Cathy began to rub small circles over the spot.

“ _God,_ yes, don’t stop.” Cathy’s breath on the back of her neck in combination with it was almost too much, and then she thought suddenly, _I want her to use her teeth._

_Can I ask her that? Is it too soon?_

She bit her lip, squealing slightly— _God, why does this feel_ so _good? Shouldn’t I want anything remotely sharp_ miles _away from my neck?—_ and imagined Cathy nipping sharply into the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

_God, I’m such a perv. Even worse, I think I might be all right with that._ She leaned harder into Cathy’s touch, her breath coming faster now. She was just about to open her mouth to ask Cathy to use her teeth after all, knowing that would send her over the edge, when she felt Cathy’s motions slow, stop abruptly, attempt to start again, and then, reluctantly, stop once more.

_Fuck, is the universe ever going to let me come already? I was so. close. Again._ The thought, surprisingly, sent another jolt of arousal through her. _Interesting._ She filed it away for future reference and turned to face Cathy, who appeared to be grimacing in pain.

_Shit._ “Cath, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Anne, I’m sorry,” Cathy said, miserably. “I have to stop—my wrist can’t take it anymore.” She sighed. “I don’t know if the injury carried over from my last life, or if I’ve spent too much time at the computer, or if this new body just has shitty joints, but for whatever reason, that repetitive motion hurts far too much to keep up for long.”

She looked as though she might cry, and Anne couldn’t bear it. She brought Cathy’s wrist to her lips and kissed it. “Poor love. We can find other ways to get me off. Don’t you ever apologize for taking care of yourself—I only wish you’d told me when it first started hurting!”

“But you were enjoying it so much!” Cathy protested.

“Never mind that. No matter how much I’m enjoying it, I don’t want you to hurt yourself!” _Although apparently I_ do _want you to hurt_ me… “And speaking of enjoying it, you haven’t had enough attention yet. How may I serve you, my queen?”

She’d meant it as a lighthearted joke, but saying it sent yet another ripple of want straight to her clit. What was more, from Cathy’s expression, it had a similar effect on her. She watched as Cathy rose up on her knees and looped her arms through the bars of her headboard for stability, feeling herself get wet all over again.

“On your knees, Boleyn, and eat me. Now.”

As Anne assumed the position, she moved to relieve her aching clit, but Cathy noticed what she was doing and added crisply, “and don’t touch yourself unless I say you can!”

Anne bowed her head and begin to run her tongue eagerly between Cathy’s folds and around her clit. She didn’t really know whether this was how it was supposed to be done, but perhaps through beginner’s luck, Cathy seemed to think whatever she was doing was more than acceptable. Anne felt her grasp her left shoulder, and as her strokes quickened and Cathy’s breathing grew faster, Cathy’s nails dug sharply into her flesh.

The squeal of pain and delight Anne let out into her cunt sent Cathy right over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Drag Race fans out there will, I hope, recognize the "reading is fundamental" shout-out.


	3. Leave The Fight and Go Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy and Anne have a snarky and amorous encounter with a desk, some writing supplies, and a clipboard.
> 
> CN for consensual hitting, scratching, and some biting. Make sure you know what you're doing before trying impact play at home, especially with found objects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With many thanks to @verflixt, who originated and helped think through the idea of Cathy bending Anne over her desk and using her as a writing surface; also for setting a good example and writing not just play but aftercare beautifully in "Quia Respexit Humilitatem Ancilla Suae (For She Has Regarded The Lowliness of Her Handmaiden)," which you should absolutely go read.

If Anne and Cathy were, at first, sexually unpracticed, along with the help of a number of books and websites (reading may only take one so far, but it _is_ nevertheless fundamental) they soon found numerous opportunities to make up their mutual deficit.

Anne also threw herself into researching sexuality with single-minded vigor, methodically building a library of books, lubricants, and toys. She told everyone she was simply trying to make up for the sad fact that she _hadn’t_ actually introduced fellatio to England.

(“Of course, I don’t know why she’d be sorry about _that,_ ” Kitty had remarked dryly, before Catalina gently scolded her and Kitty had retorted that she truly hadn’t meant anything beyond the fact that none of the dicks they’d met in the sixteenth century had deserved any positive attention whatsoever.

Honestly, no one could argue with her there).

In fact, Anne had begun her study in search of something that would take the pressure off of Cathy’s busted wrists. There had been some trial and error before they’d found a vibrator that was at once strong enough for Anne, had a sufficiently comfortable grip for Cathy, and wasn’t too unwieldy for more creative partnered play (alas for the classic Magic Wand), and by the time they’d settled on something Anne was genuinely curious about what else was out there.

(“How on earth do you afford all of these?” Anna asked her. “Some of them cost well over a hundred pounds!”

“ _Very_ careful budgeting,” Anne deadpanned. Anna rolled her eyes; it was common knowledge that Anne wasn’t allowed within ten feet of the common budget, since she had the deadly combination of spending impulsively and being unable to add.

Anne, for her part, was just surprised that Anna hadn’t run across a certain toy review blog, evocatively titled “I Guess You Really Like My Head.” Not that she planned on enlightening her. Anyway, from what she’d heard about their last lives, she didn’t really think Anna was in any position to talk about poor budgeting).

They’d had ample occasion to explore what turned out to be mutual interests in dominance and submission, pain play, and orgasm denial. Topping Anne proved to offer the structure Cathy needed to overcome her awkwardness. Anne, for her part, found talking back to Cathy utterly irresistible—Cathy seemed to have a sixth sense for how to push her buttons, and she couldn’t resist how much her cheek and insults clearly turned her on. And _God,_ she couldn’t even begin to describe how good it felt when, after being brought to the edge again and again until her nerves were exquisitely tingling and exposed, Cathy would order Anne to fuck her and then rake her nails savagely along her back as she did so.

On top of that, there was Cathy’s phenomenal creativity. When correctly viewed, everything could be lewd to Cathy in her domme persona. Pens, stage props, binder clips—when she stood up just a bit more erect, threw her shoulders back, and raised one eyebrow imperiously, nothing was safe.

“Aha,” Anne said to her one day after she had been running her hands up and down a clipboard rather suggestively. “Those are called pervertibles.”

Cathy shot her a _withering_ look. “That is an _atrocious_ word.”

“I didn’t invent it, Cath. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“First you tell me that word, and _then_ you resort to _cliché_?” She snorted. “Clearly _someone_ doesn’t want to come tonight.”

“At least I didn’t call you a horse-fucking sadist this time.”

“ _Must_ you remind me of that crime against history?!” She could get so _maddeningly_ haughty. “Bend over the desk. _Now._ ” She stood, drawing herself up regally.

Anne shrugged, then bent over as she’d been told. “The part about you being a sadist _was_ accurate, you know.” Glutton for punishment that she was, she looked over her shoulder and winked, waggling her ass lasciviously.

“Astounding deduction. And they say you were the one famed for her wit.” Cathy raised the clipboard in warning. “Any more lip from you and I’ll give your backside the paddling it so magnificently deserves.”

Anne shivered in anticipation. “You’re right, my backside _is_ magnificent. I hope you’re enjoying the view.” She shook her ass again and could feel the fabric of her underpants moving against her already-wet vulva.

_One of these days I swear she’s going to make me come from talking alone,_ Anne thought—and then she was cut off as Cathy’s clipboard connected sharply with her buttocks. It hurt more than she would have expected, given that she was still wearing her jeans, but she was still going to make Cathy work for it.

“Meh.”

“Oh, so it’s like _that,_ is it?” Cathy’s lips were tightly pursed. “Take your pants off. And your shirt. Then back as you were immediately.”

Anne stood up, deliberately taking far longer than necessary to shimmy out of her jeans and t-shirt (it said _Putas del Fuego,_ which was apparently the name of an American roller derby team, and she’d mostly worn it to scandalize Catalina—who, unfortunately for her, was far more difficult to get a rise out of than she would have liked).

“Yes, Anne, by _all_ means move at a glacial pace. You’ll pay for it soon enough, never fear.”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying the show.” Anne made a point of slowly running her hands along her torso as she peeled her shirt off.

“I would never pretend any such thing. Now bend over the desk again and take your richly deserved spanking.”

She did as she was told. “Are you going to let me come after this?”

“Very cute, Anne. No.”

“Bitch.”

“Indeed I am.” Anne squeaked Cathy smacked her ass again with the clipboard. She felt Cathy tap her shoulder twice, in a nonverbal check-in, and she nodded slowly and deliberately, adding, “Feh. I was led to believe you could do better than that.”

“You’re incorrigible.” The clipboard came down again, harder this time, making her yelp. “Yes, now you’re getting a proper taste of it.” It came down another time, just as hard, then three more times in rapid succession before she could catch her breath, hard enough to make her eyes water.

“Cat got your tongue, now?” Cathy taunted.

Anne grimaced; the last one had really _hurt._ “Wish you _would._ ”

Cathy pinched her ass, which was quite red now, _hard,_ eliciting an undignified squeal. “In time.” She reached her hand around and between Anne’s legs—at which Anne wailed quite artlessly before she could stop herself—sliding inside her damp underpants, taking a very comprehensive feel of everything, and making a point of stroking her swollen clit several times before abruptly withdrawing. She sidled up to the edge of the desk and slowly slid a glistening finger into Anne’s conveniently half-open mouth.

“Can’t I come now?” Anne moaned around Cathy’s finger.

“Of course not.” Cathy sounded just a bit breathless, since Anne was now using her tongue, but at the denial she stopped and bit her—not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to sting.

Cathy yanked her hand away. “You _certainly_ may not come now.” She retrieved some heavy cardstock and one of her good fountain pens from the desk. “I’ve got some correspondence to catch up on, at any rate. You’ll just have to wait until I’m done.” She walked around to Anne’s other side, so that her left hand was at her ass and her right hand was at her shoulders, and then lay a card between her shoulderblades. “Now stay still. These are fancy cards.”

Cathy started writing, occasionally caressing her buttocks or reaching between her legs just enough to keep her near the edge. Anne, who was flushed and feeling more than a little jelly legged, was also not trying quite as hard as she might to stay still. Three times (two of them more or less on purpose) she squirmed enough to cause Cathy’s pen to blot. The first time earned her a firm, open-handed smack on her ass. The second time, Cathy pinched her nipple _hard_ through her bra. The third time she stopped what she was doing all together, snarled, dug her nails into the skin of Anne’s back, and raked down hard enough to draw blood, causing her to positively howl.

“Perhaps _you_ find it funny to ruin other people’s work, Anne, “ Cathy hissed, “but I do not.”

Anne, panting now, snorted weakly. “Stuck-up bitch. I bet you’re not actually writing a card. You’re probably just writing filthy limericks instead.”

“Clerihews, actually.” She paused, then recited:

“Queen Anne Boleyn

Makes a terrible din

When she’s tortured with hot wax

Then brought to a climax.”

Anne was, for once, without a cheeky comeback. “That…is actually very impressive.”

“I know,” Cathy practically purred. She unhooked Anne’s bra, easing it off her shoulders, and then cupping her breast.

“Cathy…” Anne gulped.

“No.” Cathy walked around behind her and eased her underpants down around her ankles, then grasped her cunt almost possessively. She teased her until she began whimpering, then stopped abruptly.

“No…Cathy…please, I need to…”

Cathy ignored her, choosing instead to suck and bite the nape of her neck until she raised a bruise.

“…Cath…pl…please…”

Cathy took in Anne’s flushed skin and trembling legs as she carefully placed one hand over her mouth and stroked her behind her ear with the other.

Anne, who was gasping under Cathy’s hand and felt like she was either going to explode or dissolve into goo, whined pathetically and looked up at her in desperation.

Cathy sighed and removed her hand. “Can you truly not take it anymore?”

“…n…no.”

“Do you need to come _now_?”

“Yes! I…can’t…I can’t wait…anymore…”

Cathy tutted and walked away, ignoring Anne’s wail. Fortunately, she was back quickly enough with a wand-style vibrator, all black with an angled handle, which she held up and switched on.

“Against the bed, facing me. I want to see everything when you come apart.”

Anne hurried, stumbling, to comply, leaning back against the bed with her feet braced shoulder-width apart on the floor. Cathy held the vibrator against the skin beneath her navel, pausing there so she could adjust to its intensity before inching it lower. As she slid it home she pressed firmly against the top of Anne’s mons with the flat of her hand.

After so much buildup Anne’s response was almost immediate, and as she nearly screamed Cathy could feel her pelvic muscles contract rapidly under her hand. Anne, for her part, felt almost as though she were disintegrating; she could feel the orgasm rip through her and resonate with the tingling skin of her buttocks, the contusion at the nape of her neck, and the scratches on her back.

It was definitely worth the wait.

Limp and spent, she flopped back and weakly motioned for Cathy to come cuddle her, which she did. After several moments, Cathy sighed gently. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and get some soap and a hot cloth and some petroleum jelly to clean your back up with. Will you be all right for a minute?”

“Of course.” Cathy nodded and left, returning quickly with the mentioned supplies and arranging herself behind Anne so she could soothe the flesh she’d abused earlier. “Was all that all right? I was a little worried about how well I could control the clipboard.”

Anne hummed in contentment. “Mmmm, no, it was perfect. I would have let you know if it got out of hand. Was it okay for you?”

“ _More_ than okay. You know how much I love it when you sass back at me.”

“I do! And you’ve not had enough attention yet. I’m pretty beat— _ha, ha”—_ she made a face at Cathy’s dismayed groan—“but I can help a girl out.”

Cathy considered. “No, I think I’m all right for now. Might take you up on that later, though.”

“As you wish.” Anne nuzzled her cheek.

“Just one thing, though?”

“Oh?”

“Seriously, never say the word ‘pervertible’ again.”

Anne smirked wickedly. “Maybe that should be your new safeword.”

“Seriously, say it again and I won’t let you come for a _week._ ”

“Is that a threat or a challenge?”

“Say it again and you won’t see me naked until you promise to stop.”

“Oh, _fine._ I’ll just have to think of other ways to get a rise out of you.”

“I have no doubt about that. You are insatiable.”

“Of course I am. I can’t ever get enough of you.”

And for all her snark, Anne really did mean that as sincerely as she’d ever meant anything in either life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Several call-outs here to "Love and Work" here, including Anne's toy library and the time she called Cathy a "horse-fucking sadist."
> 
> *Catherine Parr apparently DID badly injure her wrist in the last months of her life, and for obvious reasons such an injury might require one to get creative.
> 
> *Putas del Fuego really are an Austin roller derby team, and I actually own the shirt in question. (Also, just throwing this out there, but someone should absolutely write a roller derby AU--you HAVE to imagine Anne would make an amazing jammer, and it fits so nicely with the "Anne loves Heelys" theme...now she can graduate to proper skates!)
> 
> *The line "When correctly viewed, everything could be lewd" is used with apologies to Tom Lehrer. As he sings in “Smut:”
> 
> “All books can be indecent books, though recent books are bolder,  
> For filth, I’m glad to say, is in the eye of the beholder,  
> When correctly viewed, everything is lewd…”
> 
> *Finally, Cathy is correct that for aesthetic reasons alone "pervertable" is an unfortunate word; don't @ me.


End file.
